


The Destroyer and The Caregiver

by exultantStardust (mintsaway)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Angst, Drabble, F/M, Gen, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 17:04:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2436299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mintsaway/pseuds/exultantStardust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All flowers will grow tall and beautiful before they begin to wilt. All fruits will flourish in beautiful colors and shapes and scents before rotting into a horrid brown mush. All creatures of this earth will cast their eyes upon the wonders of the universe before their souls are laid to rest and their bodies put to decay in the ground. Every story sees the light of beauty before it is wrenched through the hells of tragedy. This tale is no exception.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Destroyer and The Caregiver

A young woman stands alone in a library aisle. It is late, and she has been snowed in. The white snow contrasts greatly with the dark void of the sky through the windows. The lighting is a bit dim, and a lamp in a nearby aisle flickers slightly before going out. There are not many people about, just the occasional librarian, or a student determined to finish a paper before they are aloud to leave. The environment is enveloped in an almost otherworldly air of silence. 

Her eye catches on a battered old book with a cover that seems to be falling apart at the seams, the words on the spine faded so much she almost can’t read them. The book is obviously well loved, but if the fine layer of dust on the pages is anything to go by it has not been checked out in years. She opens the book cautiously, as if it might literally fall apart in her hands if she weren’t careful, which it might. 

Her eyes flit over the opening pages, and stop on the dedications. She reads it again. The name seems familiar to her, but she doesn’t know why; she’s never met anyone with that name. She shakes her head to dismiss the feeling and tucks the book under her arm. She shuffles away from the shelf and cuddles herself into a large chair.

A young woman stands alone in a library aisle and, unbeknownst to her, recalls her own tale of misery, her own history of sorrow. 

.

_All flowers will grow tall and beautiful before they begin to wilt. All fruits will flourish in beautiful colors and shapes and scents before rotting into a horrid brown mush. All creatures of this earth will cast their eyes upon the wonders of the universe before their souls are laid to rest and their bodies put to decay in the ground. Every story sees the light of beauty before it is wrenched through the hells of tragedy. This tale is no exception._

_It all starts out rather innocuously; seemingly a simple boy meets girl fable. But of course nothing is ever as it seems in the misfortunate lives of the self-sacrificial fools. Their friendship was quick forming and unavoidable. A true thing of irony, unlike what the destroyer often rambled about._

_In created nature they were polar opposites, one meant to build up, and one meant to tear down, the destroyer and the caregiver. In another life, the prince and the maid. In the views of the universe the relationship conceived was a horrid monstrosity of a mistake; but as the saying goes, opposites attract._

_Their story has been recorded in the hopes that there is a lesson to be learned from the tragedy of life and heart._

. 

The woman pauses a moment, realizing tears have blurred her eyes. The takes a deep breath and dabs gently at her eyes with the edge of her shirt. That’s odd; nothing upsetting has happened yet. And still, she can’t help but feel a terrible sense of loss. Flashes of blonde hair and hollow smirk fill her mind. Her mind is overcome with bursts stifled laughter and stolen glances and awkward attempts at romantic gestures. She is flooded with memories of joy and teasing and a horrid sense of friendship the likes of which she has never felt before. 

This lasts only a moment however, before her mind fills with dark shadows and the beeps of hospital monitors and the smell of ink drying. She remembers a contract she’s never seen before, remembers signing something she knew she shouldn’t have. She feels phantoms of shadow and grief surrounding her.

She wrenches the book closed, not bothering to be careful with the delicate item. She drops it on the table in front of her as though the paper of the cover burns her skin. Tears stream down her face as her mind is contorted to accommodate memories that should not be hers anymore. Within moments she is drenched in a lifetime of events that she should never have known about. 

These feelings do not belong to her. They are not hers to know, but she still finds herself swimming in this life she never lived. A life that is not her own, yet feels so familiar. A name bobs just beneath the surface, so close she can almost taste it in the air. The image of hard orange eyes and messy blond hair and a hollow smirk fills her head, accompanied by the smell of disinfectant and sounds of rushing feet and slowing monitors. She reaches desperately for the name just below the waters of turmoil in her head. She grabs hold of it just as the light above her flickers out. 

“Dirk,” she whispers hoarsely, fixing the book on the table with a glassy stare. “Dirk,” she chokes out again, hands writhing into each other. “I’m sorry.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be pale dirkjane fluff I don't know what happened


End file.
